


S'more Fun in a Yurt.

by BarPurple



Series: Sherlolly Against the World [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Camping, F/M, Fluff, For Science!, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, awesome Anthea, glamping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Holmes family goes glamping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mychakk](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mychakk), [Thewasp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewasp/gifts).



> Inspired by Mychakk's comment on S'more Cosy  
> Mycroft joining the glamping fun inspired by lemomdropped's comment on chapter one.

“I don’t want to go camping. Maggie says we have to stay in a yogurt and yogurt makes me sick.”

Thomas stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his chest. Sherlock stared at his six year old son and marvelled that the look on his face was a John Watson Special. This set of jaw and crease of brow on John usually meant Sherlock was trying to talk his best friend into something crazy. It was sort of cute that Thomas had picked this up from his godfather. At least it would probably be cute when Sherlock wasn’t attempting to get his son dressed so they could leave the flat.

“Tommy we are staying in a yurt. Y-U-R-T. It is a Mongolian tent and if you put your trousers on I will let you research it on my phone.”

Tommy Holmes eyed his father suspiciously.

“There’s no yogurt anywhere?”

Sherlock nodded solemnly.

“There may be some yogurt for sale in the camp site shop; but I promise none of it will come near our yurt.”

Sherlock almost held his breath as Tommy decided if this was acceptable. With a John-like nod Tommy pick up his jeans and started to pull them on. Sherlock offered silent thanks that his son could be reasoned with and began switching his phone’s browser to child safe.

The two Holmes men thundered down the stairs and out on to the pavement of Baker Street. Molly and Maggie had just arrived with the hire car. Molly was relieved to see that her husband had got her son to wear clothes. She really hadn’t wanted to start their holiday with a repeat of the Great Christmas Sheet Debacle. 

Four year old Maggie was strapped into her car seat looking like she had the weight of the world on her young shoulders. Sherlock shot his wife an enquiringly look as he settled Tommy into his seat. Molly shrugged her shoulders. 

Tommy showed his little sister Daddy’s phone.

“It’s alright Maggie there’s no yoghurt. Look it’s a yurt, from Mongolia, like Genghis Khan.”

Maggie grinned and was suddenly happy. Now the possibility of sleeping in yogurt had been removed she was all smiles. Sherlock got into the front seat and gave Molly’s hand a squeeze. Her brown eyes sparkled as she said;

“Bit different from last time we went camping.”

Sherlock twisted and looked over his shoulder at his kids; his and Molly’s kids. Even after seven years he still found is a constant source of wonder that he was a father. He squeezed Molly’s hand in return.

“That was brilliant, but this is even better.”

 

They’d had to pull into a layby halfway to Horsham as Maggie shouted that she needed a wee-wee. With the impeccable timing of a four year old she had informed her parents of this fact, just as they’d passed by the services. 

The journey was completed to the sound of Mongolian Throat Singing. Tommy’s research on yurts had branched out a little and the whole family had a grand time trying to recreate the unusual sounds from the YouTube videos Tommy had found.

 

The campsite had changed little in the intervening years and Molly smiled to herself as she caught sight of a certain little Shepard’s hut through the trees. Sherlock followed her gaze and gave her a fond smile and a wink. 

“Stop being mushy Daddy. Mummy’s busy driving.”

Sherlock chortled at his son’s statement. Tommy had apparently observed the tender moment without raising his head. His son’s attention was glued to the phone in his hand. At least the campsite was covered by Wi-Fi now. Sherlock was sure his children wouldn’t cope well without web access. He’d worried that he’d passed on his addictive personality until John pointed out that Mina was as bad and so was every kid in the country.

 

Tommy unclicked his and Maggie’s seat beats and they charged towards the yurt while their parents unpacked, well while Molly unpacked the car. Sherlock was staring at his phone in pop eyed wonder.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got to get Tommy his own phone. He’s sent a very polite reply to Lestrade’s offer of a case.”

Sherlock handed Molly the phone and grabbed two of the bags and lopped off after the kids.

 

_Back in London Greg stared at his phone. He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased as punch that his godson had sent such a polite message, or embarrassed that a six year old had given him the answer to something that had been bugging him for weeks.  
_

“Dear Uncle Greg. The Holmes Family is on holiday for the next eight days. Mummy and Daddy are unavailable for any case under a 9.5. The new Detective Sergeant is the one chewing all of the pens. See you next week love TH.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potential experiments can be found anywhere.

After inspecting the yurt and finding no traces of yogurt, Tommy and Maggie had chosen their beds and dragged their parents outside to explore.

The kids were running ahead along the river path. Molly was pleased to see they were still following the rules that applied at home; stay in sight and stop before the kerb when there was a road to cross. There had been some heated discussion between Tommy and Maggie about whether another path crossing the one they were on counted as a kerb. Sherlock trotted forward quickly as they heard Maggie’s ‘I’m right’ tone drifting towards them, as the kids got into round two of the debate.

“I know it’s not a road Tommy! It’s a cross path and we should wait.”

The four year old was toe to toe with her older and bigger brother. Sherlock wondered when Tommy would spot the correlation between Maggie putting her hands on her hips like that and him ending up on his arse. Molly had a suspicion that Tommy knew exactly what was coming, but let Maggie get away with it anyway, because letting your little sister win was a good brother thing to do. Sherlock privately thought it was impossible for siblings to act like that towards each other. He managed to intervene before the shoving started.

“What’s going on, you two?”

Maggie turned around to stare at him in exactly the same way that Molly would if he was being a bit not good. Recently every day Maggie showed a new gesture or turn of phrase that underscored her parentage. Molly was adamant that their youngest was showing just as many Sherlocky traits, but he never seemed to notice those at forcefully. Sherlock held his ground, refusing point black to set the precedent of appearing intimidated by his four year old daughter.

“Tommy wanted to run on so he could poke the sheep.”

Sherlock frowned and scanned the path ahead of them. His son might be a city boy, but he knew better than to poke livestock; ah well that didn’t really count as ‘live’ stock now did it? Sherlock held his hands out to his children.

“We shall go together and investigate,” his eyebrow gave a twitch and the kids joined in, “For Science!”

When Molly caught up with her family she rolled her eyes. She wondered how many of the families that used this path had even spotted the very dead sheep. More likely the kids had noticed and been dragged away by disgusted parents. Oh wow, what must their lives be like? So dull and boring she’d bet. 

“What’s the case then kids?”

Tommy grinned up at his Mummy with a glee that most kids reserved for a new X-box game.

“A dead sheep. We think it drowned.”

Sherlock raised a finger and made a tutting noise. Maggie piped up with.

“We don’t ‘fink’ we deducted it.”

“Think and deduced.”

Sherlock corrected her gently and Maggie nodded happily. Molly spotted the unasked question in her children’s eyes and sighed as she got ready to be Mean Mummy. Sherlock, her wonderful, perceptive and loving husband threw himself under that particular bus for her. Of course he did it in such a way that the kids didn’t suspect he was being firm and sensible Daddy.

“What we have here is a perfect chance to observe decomposition and insect activity in situi. Do you know what that means?”

Tommy frowned and chewed his lip as he tried to work the word out. Maggie answered first, not because of a greater linguistic understanding, but simply because she understood how her parents thought. 

“It means we can’t drag the dead sheep back to the yurt.”

 

The Family Holmes spent the rest of the afternoon planning their science experiments on the sheep corpse. Sherlock had imposed an Eye’s Only Science rule, because they didn’t have a field lab with them and learning to observe not just see was very important. Plus Molly didn’t want the kids experimenting on biohazards of unknown origin.

After a meal of fish and chips the kids fell asleep almost the second they clambered into their beds. Sherlock and Molly sat outside wrapped in a blanket watching the stars as they wheeled across the clear summer sky. They turned in eventually and slept wrapped in each other’s arms.

They fell into a lazy holiday routine of sleep in a bit, drive off site for breakfast and check progress of No-peep, (yes they had named the dead sheep), explore the campsite then eat lunch, more science, before cooking diner over the fire pit. Everything was holiday perfection, until on the morning of the fourth day they arrived back from breakfast to find Mycroft waiting for them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events do not go according to Mycroft's plan.

Molly saw Sherlock’s knuckles turn white as he gripped the steering wheel tight at the sight of his brother. She wasn’t supposed to know that Sherlock had broken the rule of silence in the Diogenes Club a few days before they left London. Mycroft had wanted him to take a case that would have meant cancelling their holiday; Sherlock had refused in no uncertain terms. Anthea had given Molly the rough gist of that encounter and told her to text if Mycroft tried to push the matter. 

Sherlock helped the kids out of the car and strolled towards his brother, tension showing in every step. Molly stayed in the car and pulled her phone out intending to text Anthea. She didn’t need to, as the message alert went off at that very moment.

_I know. I’m on it._

Tommy and Maggie disappeared inside the yurt as Molly reached the brothers. Sherlock was standing scant inches away from Mycroft hissing at him in a low tone.

“I said no, brother mine. This is the first family holiday we have ever had. We are not leaving early because some politician has been an idiot.”

Mycroft sighed with frustration.

“As ever you are failing to see the big picture…”

Molly swiftly stepped in between the two taller men as she saw the signs of her husband’s temper preparing to erupt into the physical.

“Behave. At least you had the sense to send the kids inside.”

Sherlock looked sadly at Molly and shook his head.

“I didn’t send them anywhere. Tommy took one look at him and told Maggie they should go and pack because we had to get back to London.”

Sherlock turned on his heel and strolled into the yurt. At this point Mycroft Holmes made the biggest tactical error of his long career.

“My niece and nephew have so much more sense than their father.”

Smug victory dripped from every word and Molly’s restraint snapped. She step into Mycroft’s personal space and kept advancing. There was a look of confusion on her brother-in-law’s face that Molly would relish for the rest of her days. He stumbled back and landed heavily in one of the deckchairs. Molly took advantage of the situation to tower over Mycroft. She spoke softly and calmly, but only an idiot would have missed the threat and disgust in her words.

“My son and daughter have had the sense to see that their uncle is a selfish, manipulative man who sucks joy from others like a spectre at the feast. Unless you are going to prove you can be a real uncle don’t be here when I come back outside.”

Mycroft watched open mouthed as his sister-in-law turned swiftly and marched into the yurt to join her family. He snapped his mouth shut and rose to his feet, he straightened his already immaculate tie and walked at a measured pace back to the carpark. A stranger watching would have thought he’d won the argument.

A stranger wasn’t watching, Anthea was and she was not happy with what she saw. 

“Back to London, my dear…”

“No.”

Mycroft’s eyebrow hitched at the interruption and then climbed higher as he realised the negative nature of said interruption. Anthea continued;

“If you go back to London now, you’ll need this,” She handed him a manila envelope, “It’s my resignation, effective immediately.”

Mycroft frowned, the small envelope felt far too heavy in his hand. Anthea was not prone to dramatics; this was serious. Never taking his eyes from the envelope he quietly asked;

“What would be achieved by my staying here?”

“You will begin to repair your relationship with your brother and sister-in-law; you will spend some quality time with your niece and nephew,” Anthea took a deep breath, steeling herself to play her final card, “And you’ll finally be taking the time off that your doctor recommended when he diagnosed your angina six weeks ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for being so awful to Mycroft. I promise I make it up to him in the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holmes Family has a good time and John Watson has the photos to prove it.

The Iceman thawed. The stress that had been bubbling beneath the surface since his long talk with his doctor finally boiled up and out of him. His careful façade melted into tears of relief. He was crying, but he was no longer alone. Anthea stood firm and let Mycroft sob for a short moment. She purposely stepped towards him and handed him a handkerchief. He took it with a small nod of thanks and tried to turn away to compose himself. His right hand woman was having none of that; she wrapped him in a hug. The last fragments of ice had no chance under the sheer warmth of her friendship. Mycroft return the embrace and gave his emotions free reign. He couldn’t honestly remember the last time he had let anyone see him this undone.  
He finally brought himself under control and gently pulled back from Anthea’s arms; she let him move away, but stayed close. Mycroft gave her a watery smile.

“I assume you have a plan my dear. What is it?”

Anthea’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“We are staying for the rest of the week. I have luggage for both of us in the boot and we have a rather pleasant hut booked. I suspect Tommy and Maggie will enjoy seeing their Uncle relax. And you will relax, sir.”

Her tone allowed no disagreement and Mycroft knew that if Anthea said he was going to relax there would be no chance of doing anything else. He gave her a slight bow and gestured towards the car.

“Lead on then my dear.”

 

Sherlock and Molly had taken the kids to check on No-peep, but some of the enthusiasm for photographing the dead sheep had gone since Mycroft’s visit. Even the sighting of a new beetle hadn’t chased away the gloomy cloud hanging over them like a limp Eeyore balloon. As they’d trudged back to the yurt Molly was wracking her brains for something to lift their spirits.

The smoke rising from their fire pit was a surprise, but it paled compared to the sight of Mycroft blowing out a flaming marshmallow. The kids ran towards their Uncle with glee, and thankfully didn’t see the thunderous look on their Father’s face. Molly gripped Sherlock’s hand tight, willing him to hear Mycroft out. The man had changed into jeans and a plaid shirt, that effort enough to hear what he had to say.

“Uncle Mycroft! That’s all black, you can’t eat that. Eugh!”

Tommy was proven wrong as Mycroft popped the charred lump into his mouth and chewed. Mycroft’s face contorted through various stages of distaste before he shuddered. Maggie was doubled over holding her sides laughing like a mad thing at her Uncle sticking his tongue out as if the air would rid him of the burnt taste.

“You are quite right Tommy. I shouldn’t have eaten that. Can you instruct me in the correct way to toast these things?”

Sherlock’s jaw hit the floor. He turned to Molly for confirmation that he wasn’t hallucinating. His wife’s amazed smile told him that this was actually happening. Anthea appeared at their side.

“Sherlock, don’t deduce. Let me explain.”

Sherlock nodded mutely and listened to Anthea speak softly for a few moments. He squeezed Molly’s hand hard and dragged in a deep breath before asking;

“You threatened to resign?”

Molly shook her head, out of all the things Sherlock had just been told he chose to focus on the thing Molly considered to be trivial.

“No, I gave him my resignation, effective immediately had he returned to London.”

“What do we do now?”

Anthea shrugged.

“That’s up to you.”

Sherlock looked down into Molly’s warm brown eyes. This was emotion, this was family, and this was her area. She stood on tip toe and kissed her husband’s cheek.

“I’m going to toast some marshmallows with my brother-in-law.”

Sherlock watched Molly stroll towards the fire pit. He stared at his family for a long moment, before he turned to Anthea and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thank you Anthea.”

He held his hand out to her and dragged her towards the gooey chaos.

 

Over the course of his friendship with Sherlock Holmes the mobile phone of John Watson had received some bloody strange picture messages; close ups of body parts, spray painted walls, Anderson falling over at a crime scene and courtesy of Greg Lestrade various embarrassing videos staring Sherlock. All of this totally and completely failed to prepare him for the two dozen photos and videos that arrived bearing the message line; Holmes Family Holiday.

John smiled fondly at the pictures of Tommy and Maggie red faced and laughing on a rope swing. Sherlock hanging upside down from a tree branch made him spit his tea cross the room. Molly and the kids sprawled on a bed asleep earned an ‘Awwhh’ that got him some funny looks on the Tube.

The next set of photos puzzled John until Mina, who was looking over his shoulder said;

“Wow. I didn’t think Uncle Mycroft even knew about clothes other than suits.”

John glanced at his daughter then stared at the photo some more. Bloody hell! That was indeed The British Government dressed in denim and plaid, while tending a BBQ and drinking bottles of beer and smiling with Sherlock. Dumbfounded at the sheer number of unlikely things in one photo John quickly printed a copy and got Mina to make back-ups on the Cloud.

The photo of Mycroft standing on one leg waving his sock clad foot in the air, a lost welly stuck in the mud at the bottom of the shot became John’s screen saver.

John was glad he had a day off from the clinic the next day because his phone started dinging around ten AM and didn’t let up for hours. The first few photos were of a very dead sheep, which made John think that this was case related. That idea went out of the window when the next photos also included Tommy and Maggie pointing at various well rotten sheep parts with long sticks. 

“Aha. For science, hey godchildren mine?”

Mary looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow at her husband.

“What was that?”

John shuffled along the sofa closer to his wife and wrapped an arm around her shoulders so she could see the phone’s screen. He hit play on the video clip that had just arrived.

_Tommy and Maggie where crouched down next to Mycroft, who was holding a long thick stick._

_“You ready?”_

_The kids turned excited faces towards the camera and Anthea’s voice was heard to say;_

_“How gross is this going to be?”_

_Maggie and Tommy answered in gleeful unison._

_“Very!”_

_Mycroft poked the stick into the sheep’s distended abdomen. The bloated flesh resisted for a few seconds before rupturing under the pressure. A wriggling mass of maggots spilled out on to the ground as the camera wobbled as Anthea was heard to cough._

_“That smells vile!”_

_Tommy turned to the camera._

_“That’s decomposition.”_

_The image blurred and shook as Anthea turned to her left. Sherlock and Molly appeared in frame as the image steadied and refocused._

_“I told you we should have called them Wednesday and Pugsley.”_

_Sherlock chuckled and kissed the top of his wife’s head._

Mary was breathless from laughter when the video ended. 

“I bet you wish we’d gone with them now, don’t you?”

John smiled down at his wife.

“Nah, they needed this time. Next year though…”


End file.
